


When Love is Not Enough

by thewightknight



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst with a sad ending, Broken Hearts, M/M, Sexual Incompatibility, incompatible kinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:08:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5274254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewightknight/pseuds/thewightknight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few of the Inquisitor’s former mercenary company stop by Skyhold on their way to a job, and one of them confronts Dorian with some uncomfortable truths about his relationship with Karaas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Love is Not Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Straight off the bat, let me warn you. This isn’t a happy story. This is about two people who fall in love and find out that love isn't enough.
> 
> Major character death applied because the epilogue jumps forward a few decades.
> 
> Trespasser stuff lightly applied, completely ignored, and/or altered to fit the story.

They were all tired and dusty and in serious need of a bath and a drink. The order of these two things was negotiable, Karaas tried to argue, but Dorian was resolute.

“Sour sweat is not a good seasoning for ale, my dear. Unless perhaps you are a dwarf. I hear they make their ale with fungus and dirt, though, so their tastes are quite suspect.”

“I heard that,” Varric said from the rear of the party.

They’d just cleared the gates when a runner approached them. “Inquisitor!” The woman saluted. “There’s a party here, just arrived about a half an hour ago, asking for you. Sister Nightingale is talking to their leader now.”

The runner had barely finished the sentence, when there was a roar across the courtyard. A giant qunari had spotted them, and had started charging across the courtyard towards their party. Using the words “giant” and “Qunari” in the same sentence should be redundant, but this was the biggest qunari Dorian had ever seen. He looked to be almost a head taller than Karaas, and his shoulders were several hand spans wider. In a side-by-side comparison, he might even make Bull look small.

Instead of drawing weapons like a sane and logical being, Karaas roared back and started charging too. Alarm should have been the appropriate response, but Dorian found himself staring in shock until he heard Varric pull back Bianca’s arming bolt. The dwarf had no clear shot, though, which turned out to be a fortunate thing, because when the two met with a bone-jarring impact, the taller qunari picked Karaas up in a bear hug and swung him around, laughing. This was followed by hearty back-slapping and an exchange of absolutely foul name-calling, and then the two made their way back to the party, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, grinning like fools.

“Still wearing that sissy armor, I see,” the strange qunari was saying.

“I still have both my nipples under it, too,” Karaas shot back, causing the other to roar with laughter again. The huge qunari was wearing the type of leather harness Bull favored, and as they neared, Dorian could see a mass of scar tissue across his chest.

“So this is what you’ve got watching your back nowadays, _Kadan_? Scrappy looking bunch!” His eyes fell on Bianca, and he whistled appreciatively. “That’s a fine looking lady you’ve got there, dwarf.”

“Everyone, this is Asok Katari. We served together with the Valo-Kas for years. I still have both horns because of him.” Introductions were cut short when the runner cleared her throat again.

“Excuse me, Inquisitor?” The poor woman was wide-eyed, and swallowed audibly when everyone turned to her. “Sister Nightingale?” she almost squeaked. “The visitors?” She pointed, and they could see a party making their way down the stairs from the battlements, the spymaster in the lead.

Dorian never got used to the change. One moment it was Karaas, his friend and lover, standing next to him, dirty and sweating and laughing. The next instant he was standing in the presence of the Inquisitor, managing to look regal and commanding despite the stained clothing and road dust. “Of course. Thank you. Did she say who the visitors were?”

Asok answered before the runner could find her voice. “Some Orlesian fribble we escorted here. Old Iron-Ass sent a letter along for you. Guy’s found something he thought your Inquisition would find useful.”

“Well, then. The bath and the tankard will have to wait, at least for me. Don’t drink the tavern dry before I have a chance to get away, will you?” And with that he clapped the other qunari on the back, gave Dorian one of those smiles that always made his heart skip a beat, and strode off to greet the newcomers.

“I hear the ale calling. Coming, Sparkler?” Varric patted his crossbow. “Bianca’s definitely thirsty.”

Dorian realized he’d been staring at Karaas’ retreating back. Well, mainly his backside, he had to admit. He tore his gaze away and found the giant mercenary giving him a speculative look. He flushed slightly, bantered in return to cover his discomfort. “Bath first, you uncultured swine!”

Both Varric and the qunari laughed. “I’ll join you, dwarf, if you don’t mind,” the Qunari rumbled.

“We’ll try to leave something for the rest of Skyhold” were Varric’s parting words as he led the way to the tavern. Dorian waved them off and started across the courtyard. As tired as he felt, the promise of clean skin and clothing got him up the multiple sets of stairs to their quarters.

Dorian was still getting used to those words. Their quarters. He’d moved in to the tower with Karaas almost two months ago, but the looks hadn’t stopped yet. When he passed through the Great Hall and the door to the Inquisitor’s tower nobles whispered behind masks and hands. He could deal with the looks, though. They were a small price to pay for his current happiness.

He managed to find the energy to sprint up the last flight to their chambers. There were many things to love about these rooms. There was the sinfully large bed. There was the view from the balconies. And the company, of course. But the best and most wonderful thing was the bathing chamber. The Artificer that Karaas had brought in had designed a system that trapped rainwater in a reservoir and heated it by a magical device that stored and magnified the sunlight. The water was piped directly into the bath chamber, meaning hot baths whenever he wanted, without having to lug around buckets of water or go down to the bathhouses. The dirty water drained into an irrigation system for the garden, even. It was proof that not all of the Maker’s grace had left Thedas, as far as he was concerned.

He dawdled in the tub for longer than was necessary, hoping Karaas might join him, but either whatever the visitors had brought was still occupying him, or, more probably, he’d gone straight from the war room to the tavern. Well, then. He’d just have to remind his lover what he was missing out on. He dressed with care, tousled his hair artfully, and dabbed a bit of scented oil behind each ear, then headed down the stairs.

The tavern was overrun with qunari, or at least it seemed so, anyways. When he counted, there were really only seven of them, including Bull and Karaas, but each of them was larger than life, enjoying the moment as only career mercs could. The laughter shook the rafters as they reminisced with Karaas about this mission and that, with Bull joining in about some of the more outrageous jobs he’d taken his chargers into. Dorian managed to insinuate himself into the crowd, appropriating a tankard along the way. He came into the middle of a story about a wyrven hunt that had ended up with a bunch of Orlesian nobles stranded in trees, several of them missing their pants. Sera would be proud, he thought as he raised his tankard to the end of the tale.

Karaas and Asok were sitting next to each other, casually comfortable in a way that Dorian hadn’t seen his lover with anyone else. Asok was straddling the bench and Karaas was sitting almost in between his legs. He felt a twinge of jealousy as he saw the large Qunari had a hand high on Karaas’ thigh, but tamped it down when Karaas saw him and beamed. Karaas scooted over for him on the bench, slapping the wood beside him. This had the unfortunate effect, though, of snugging him up even closer to Asok, whose hand traveled even further up Karaas’ thigh in response. Neither of them seemed conscious of the contact, and Dorian felt a flash of jealousy, sharp and ugly. He took his seat, feeling himself stiffen when Karaas’ arm slid around him, and feeling even worse when his reaction went unnoticed. The two qunari were trading anecdotes with each other and the Chargers, and Dorian, without anything to contribute, watched Asok’s fingers as they wandered.

He managed to insert himself in the conversation finally, leaning forward, almost having to shout to make himself heard. “You two worked together for a long time then?”

“Years!” Asok said, and he and Karaas clinked tankards and drank.

“And you were lovers?” Dorian continued, even though he already knew the answer, glancing down again.

Asok threw back his head, roaring in laughter. “Lovers? Nothing so refined, lad. We just fucked. Speaking of, you look like you’re overdue for a good fuck, Karaas. You’re all wound up and tense. Too much responsibility, not enough fun, it looks like. What’d you say we slip away for a bit, for old times’ sake?” Karaas actually blushed, and Dorian felt a rush of blood to his head, pounding in his ears.

“Asok, I should have mentioned,” Karaas stammered, looking down. “Dorian and I, well, we’re together.”

The merc laughed again, raising his tankard to them. “Congrats! Bring him along, and he can watch, maybe learn a thing or two. It’ll do you some good, _Kadan_ , not having to hold back for a change. You know I know what I’m talking about.”

Karaas was turning all sorts of alarming colors now, and Dorian was sure he made them a matched pair, as he could feel waves of heat washing across his face.

The huge Qunari looked between the two of them and shook his head, smacking his forehead several times. “Well, I’m a blighted wretch and no mistake! I’ve put my foot in it again, haven’t I? My apologies to the both of you. Always have let my mouth run away from me. That’s why I’m out here and not making kissy faces with the higher ups.” He drained the rest his tankard in one pull, and stood. “I’m going to go over there now and try not to offend anyone else this evening. My apologies to you both.” With that he stood and made his way over to the table where the Chargers were seated.

He should let it go, he knew, but it slipped out before he could help himself. “ _Kadan?_ ”

Karaas looked sheepish. “It has many different meanings, depending on how it’s used. It’s used between friends and family. Brothers. Lovers. All those that hold a place in your heart.”

“Ah.” One question answered then. “And what did he mean, about not having to hold back for a change?”

He couldn’t identify any of the emotions that chased across Karaas face. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Before he could press the issue a roar went up from the Chargers and an answering roar came from the Valo-Kas and Karaas was dragged away from him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Getting back to their rooms turned into a bit of an adventure, as Karaas had had much more to drink than normal, and Dorian had downed several tankards too many as well. He tried to steer them as much as possible, but the difference in their masses made it impossible for him to effect any real change in direction. Two chairs fell to their passage, most likely never to rise again. He made sure Karaas hugged the wall as they climbed the stairs, and they made it to the top with only one minor heart-stoppage. Well, on Dorian’s part, at least. Karaas was oblivious, his mind on other things, made apparent as soon as they reached their quarters.

Without warning, Dorian found himself with his back to the wall, arms pinned above his head as Karaas hungrily claimed his lips. Startled, he froze for an instant before responding, but then returned in kind. He gasped as Karaas shoved a thigh in between his legs, and Karaas took advantage, tongue delving into his mouth.

He tried to relax into it but the pressure on his wrists grew until he found himself whimpering. Karaas didn’t seem to notice, and finally he managed to break free from his kisses long enough to beg off. “Amatus, stop. Please. That hurts.”

The change was immediate. Karaas let go like he was burned, stepping back, stammering apologies.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Dorian. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean … I shouldn’t have … I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

Dorian rubbed at his wrists, now thoroughly out of sorts. “Is this what he meant? About holding back?”

He’d never seen Karaas at a loss for words before. Suddenly, he had a thought. He reached out, laying his hand on Karaas’ arm, and there it was, the tremble he always felt. He’d put it down to emotion before this, a magnification of the same flutter he felt in his stomach whenever they touched, but now he realized what Asok had meant. Holding back.

He saw Karaas struggling to answer, tongue thickened and brain fogged with alcohol, and raised his hand, forestalling a response. “We’ll talk about it in the morning, okay?” Karaas nodded, his relief evident. With only a little prompting he stumbled across the room, fell into bed, not bothering even to kick his boots off. He was asleep, or more likely passed out, in moments, leaving Dorian to sit on the edge of the bed, watching him, dreading the morning to come.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He woke gradually, coming out of a pleasant dream to realize his dream had been inspired by reality, the feeling of hands on skin, caressing and kneading. He smiled, started to turn into the touch, and then groaned, squeezing his eyes shut against the throbbing of his head.

Karaas chuckled, the heartless bastard. It wasn’t fair. Even with as much as he’d drunk the night before, he seemed to be hangover free. Dorian groaned again, massaging his temples, trying to summon the concentration to conjure a bit of ice to dull the pain. Even through the pounding of his blood, he heard Karaas’ sharp intake of breath.

“Dorian! Your wrists!”

He managed to crack an eye open, just enough to see the livid bruises that encircled each wrist. He moaned again and let his hands drop, the events of the night before coming back to him, compounding his headache. He didn’t want to have this conversation, not now, when his head was splitting, but he knew Karaas wouldn’t let it rest. This time he managed to call ice to his fingertips, breath hissing out in relief as the chill took away the worst of the pain.

“So to continue where we left off last night, the holding back thing?”

There was no response from Karaas for long enough that Dorian pried his hands away from his face and cracked his eyelids.

Karaas wasn’t looking at him, was staring down at his clasped hands instead.

“I love you, you know that.” That was the first time Karaas had said it out loud. At any other time it would have made him melt, made him throw himself into Karaas’ arms and cover his face with kisses. But now, at this moment, the way they were spoken? They were just words.

“Being with you is like nothing I’ve ever felt before, and it’s almost enough ….” Karaas trailed off, and when he didn’t continue Dorian prompted him.

“But?”

Karaas slumped, took a deep breath. “But sometimes, I like to fight. I like, no I need to … struggle … and lose.” The last came out almost as a whisper.

“And I can’t do that for you.” It wasn’t a question and Karaas' lack of answer was an answer in itself.

The words spilled out of Dorian’s mouth almost of their own volition. “Then maybe you should take Asok upon his offer.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He made himself scarce for the rest of the day. It wasn’t hard to do, really. Karaas had made a token protest before they said their farewells and Dorian had repeated himself and that was that. Karaas was now tied up with Cullen and Leliana, going over whatever information the still unnamed Orlesian noble had brought in.

With Cullen unavailable, he managed to talk The Iron Bull into a game of chess, and then another when he demanded two out of three after losing the first game in eight moves. He told himself it was just that Bull was a superb tactician, and his losses had nothing to do with any distraction on his part. He almost made himself believe it, too.

He forgot entirely about lunch, a little too successful at distracting himself, and slipped in and out of the mess hall for dinner, bolting his food, avoiding catching the eye of anyone he knew and retreating back to his nook in the library when he finished.

Once there, he estimated how much time was reasonable, doubled it, and added another hour for good measure. There were so many books still to be read and so much research to be done, after all, and if he ended up rereading passages multiple times, well, it was dense material in an archaic dialect. It was into the early hours of the morning when he finally returned to their rooms.

He listened at the base of the stairs and it was silent above, so he crept up slowly. Even with both the doors to both balconies wide open, the bedroom still stank of sweat and sex, and everything was in disarray. The two chairs by the fireplace were overturned, and the small table that normally sat between them was listing sideways, one leg broken. The desk was canted sideways and all the papers and books that had been stacked so neatly were now scattered across the floor. There was a puddle of fabric at the base of the bed, the curtains ripped from their rings, jumbled together with the bedclothes.

Karaas was sound asleep alone in the bed, face down, luminous in the light of the banked fire. He approached, hesitant. What he thought at first was a strange play of shadows on Karaas’ exposed hip turned out instead to be a pattern of bruises emerging. Dorian let his hand hover just over them, comparing, and yes, they were radiating out in a finger-shaped pattern, from a hand much larger than his, grasping from behind.

Now that he was closer, Dorian could also see bite marks across his back, concentrated especially around the shoulders, and what looked like a bruise high on the cheekbone facing him. He must have made some sound, because Karaas stirred, eyes opening slightly, and Dorian’s heart gave a huge lurch in his chest at the expression on his face, the blown out heavy-lidded look of bliss, knowing he hadn’t caused it and most likely never would. Karaas murmured something unintelligible and drifted back off again, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Dorian disentangled a sheet from the pile on the floor and covered him, earning another murmur, something in qunlat he didn’t catch, but the name that wasn’t his stood out from the rest of the words.

As late as it was, he couldn’t stay. He was down the stairs before he knew it, and found himself outside the tavern without remembering anything in between. The main floor was quiet and it seemed empty besides himself and the sole barmaid on duty, and it wasn’t until he was seated by the fire that he realized there was another patron. Asok had been hidden in the shadows.

The qunari leaned forward, the firelight catching his features, and Dorian could see he was marked too. One lip was split and there were teeth marks on his shoulder and a set of scratches down one arm. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Asok rose, coming over and sitting across from him at the table. Without any preamble, he started to speak.

“The Valo-Kas is mostly Tal Vashoth. Not the murder bastard bandit variety, mind you. We’re picky. But we’ve got a few humans and dwarves in the company, and everyone one of them’s earned their way in and then some. A few years back, we recruited this dwarf lass. Oh, she was fiery. Could drink anyone of us under the table, and she was absolutely deadly with that huge hammer of hers. During one skirmish, she saved my life. I got taken by surprise, a blow to the head, and I’m watching this sword come down, thinking this is it, and then the other guy just kind of went splat and she’s standing over me with that hammer swinging, screaming and pulverizing the poor sod. And that was it, I was smitten. Didn’t do anything about it, though. Lass barely came up to my belt buckle.”

He wasn’t looking at Dorian as he spoke, staring instead into the fireplace.

“Thought I was doing a good job of hiding it, I did, until the night when I went back to my room and there she was in my bed, wearing nothing but her hair. Oh, it was sweet while it lasted, so sweet. She twisted my heart around her finger and I wrapped it all up with a bow on top. Half my height, she was, and a quarter of my weight, and I was always so careful, and her always telling me she could take it, not to worry. Except there was this one night, when I had too much to drink.” Dorian shivered at this, catching himself rubbing at his wrists. “She swore up and down the next morning she was fine, but something tore, inside of her, and then she got an infection, and by the time we realized there wasn’t much the healers could do for her.”

When he started, Asok’s voice had been conversational, the voice of a man relating a story, but the longer he went the rougher his voice had gotten, and at this point he stopped, breathing deeply, eyes shining. After a few moments, he continued. “I was ready to tie a couple of big rocks to my ankles and take a walk out to the center of the next lake we came to, but Karaas got me through it.”

For the first time, he looked directly at Dorian. “I owe him, and don’t want to be doing the same for him someday. I know he’s head over heels for you, and it looks like you’re the same about him, and that’s why I’m telling you this. I know what he likes, what he needs, and I know you can’t give it to him. I’m not saying stop and walk away, because that’s not my place, but I am telling you that if you go forward from here with him, then know that means that he’s going to spend the rest of both your whole lives holding back with you, and you’ll have to deal with him going looking for something on the side from time to time or he’ll burst with trying to keep it all in. I'm saying this now because I don’t think you’re built for that. It’s all over your face right now.”

He didn’t wait for any response from Dorian, nodding as he rose to leave. It was a good thing, because Dorian found words had deserted him. One tankard drained itself without his notice, and the second went quickly as well. He got about halfway through the third before his stomach let him know it’d had enough, and he made himself quit before the sicks claimed him.

Back to their rooms he went, because the alternative was his old quarters, dusty and cold and without most of his belongings, and he couldn’t face that. Not today. Every step seemed heavier, until he could barely drag himself to the top of the landing. Dawn was just starting to break as he forced himself to lay in bed, pulling a coverlet up around his shoulders. His head spun, and the Orlesian monstrosity they slept in was too damned tall for him to put a foot on the floor to make the room stay still, so he propped himself upright in a sitting position against the headboard and watched the sky turn from gold to rose to blue. At some point he finally drifted off, and when he woke again it was well past midday and he was alone in bed and there was a headache tonic in a cup sitting on the endtable.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Valo-Kas left the next day and Dorian managed to pretend that nothing had changed for a few weeks, ignored how Karaas seemed to be more relaxed, easier with his laughter, told himself that he didn’t notice the tremble missing from Karaas’ muscles during their lovemaking. And then he went off to the Exalted Plains. A friend of Solas’ needed his help, and of course there were troubles out there that only the great Inquisitor could handle. Dorian was torn, not wanting to be separated, but one of Leliana’s spies had just delivered a copy of the _Liberalum_ , as well as a stack of other tomes he’d never even heard of before, and he was itching to dig into them.

Karaas saw his turmoil, and kissed him, once on the forehead, once on the lips. “Stay. Do what you do best. Find out who this bastard really is. I’ll be back.”

The weeks flew, and so did Leliana’s ravens, and by the time Karaas returned the Inquisition had a new powerful ally in Tevinter. He was feeling good about his accomplishments, basked in Karaas’ praise, and dragged him off to a secluded corner as soon as possible to celebrate, and there he felt it again, arms quivering under his touch. Karaas felt him freeze, and knew why. He broke away and they stared at each other. Reaching down, he took one of Karaas' hands, raised it up between them. He wrapped a hand around his lover's massive wrist as far as it would go, traced the empty expanse of skin between his fingertips with the other hand as he pushed, up and back until the back of Karaas' hand met the wall. 

Stretched to his fullest, he couldn't reach up over Karaas' head, and knew the only reason he could move the arm he held at all was because he was allowed. Sadly, he let go and stepped back. They stared at each other, neither moving nor saying anything, and finally Dorian turned and walked away.

There had to be something they could do, he thought. He couldn't do this by himself, he knew. But maybe, just maybe there was someone else that could. Someone he liked, and had grown to respect, much to his surprise, someone who was a friend to them both. Maybe, just maybe ....

And so it was again that he found himself outside the door to the Herald's Rest. He'd tried to plan how the conversation would start as he walked, but it was all for naught, because when he entered the tavern he walked straight into an impromptu celebration. Bull and Krem were being toasted by the Chargers, and everyone else that wandered by was being roped in as well. He stood there, gaping in shock as Krem grabbed Bull by the horns and pulled him down for a kiss, not noticing when Rocky appeared at his elbow until a tankard was shoved into his hand.

"Yeah, that's what we all did too," the dwarf said as he smashed his tankard against Dorian's, sloshing ale over both their hands. "Skinner, Grim and I walked in on them this morning. First time I've ever heard Grim string more than three words together at a time. Don't know why they were being all secretive about it. And so here we are!"

Dorian stayed, because of course he had to. He was happy for them, really he was. Bull was wearing a necklace he'd never seen before, what looked like part of a dragon's tooth, and after a bit he noticed Krem had a matching one. Every new bit of teasing made the both of them smile even more, until Dorian's cheeks ached in sympathy.

Then the toasting started. He stuck to sips from his tankard, figuring if he reached a state of intoxication he might put a damper on their good cheer. He was called on, of course he was, and he managed to come up with something, although later he couldn't remember a word of what he'd spoken. He stayed much later than he really wanted to, not wishing to be rude to the happy couple, but not able to explain why he wouldn't want to stay without airing his own problems.

Finally he was able to slip away, and not knowing where else to go, he ended back in his old room. There was no wood for the fireplace, or oil for the lamps, but at least it wasn't as dusty as he thought it'd be. Someone had been in to clean not too long ago. Dragging the covers off the bed, he wrapped himself up and settled into the chair by the window.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There wasn’t any one moment after that, nothing that signaled the end. Dorian’s possessions just started to disappear from the tower, and he began spending more nights in his old rooms. Not all at once, a night here, a night there, then several in a row, then a week, and one day he realized it had been over a month since they’d done more than nod at each other in passing. 

He wanted nothing more than to crawl into the bottom of a bottle, but the last time he’d done that he’d lost Alexius by the time he finally resurfaced. So he allowed himself one glass of wine or one tankard of ale, two or three times a week, always in company, and buried himself in his research again. At least then when his head ached and his eyes stung, he could say it was from the long hours he was spending and not for any sentimental reasons.

Surprisingly, Mother Giselle took to checking on him. He couldn’t say when she’d had stopped glaring at him whenever he wandered through the gardens and instead started smiling. And rumor had it she’d actually begun chastising the gossips recently. He was surprised by how much her visits soothed him, and how he’d begun to return her smiles with his own. The others tried, bless them, but their well-meaning attempts wore at his resolve for sobriety.

He was almost surprised when the end came. It seemed like they'd all dreamed the final battle, it was so sudden. Afterwards, he should have left, but he kept putting it off for some reason or another. There were still things that needed to be done, pockets of trouble that needed to be dealt with, and he kept staying. Just for a little while longer. A week, two weeks, a month, three. And then one day, as he was digging through the shelves for one particular book, he heard his name called in a voice that could still make his heart flutter.

“Dorian.”

Schooling his face into a careless smile, he turned. “Ah, Inquisitor! What brings you to my little corner of academia today?”

“We received an official overture from Tevinter, from the new Imperial Archon.”

“New Archon? What happened to the old one?”

“From what we can tell, assassinated, and quite messily, too. Took out half of the Magisterate along with him, from what Leliana has pieced together.”

“Well, then, that will certainly shake things up. Who is the new Archon? Anyone we know?”

“Yes, actually. It’s Calpernia.”

"I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t kill her at the Temple of Mythal, then?” He was proud of himself, managing a bantering tone, as he’d done so often when they’d first met.

“A good thing, yes.” Karaas hesitated, glanced at Dorian and then looked away again. “It was requested that we send a delegation to Tevinter, and that Altus Dorian Pavus should lead it as the Inquisition’s ambassador.”

Dorian opened his mouth to speak, shut it, opened it again, and shut it once more when realized that he was incapable of forming any words.

“We were told that the Magister Tilani put your name forward. You were initially to be asked to take Magister Halward Pavus's seat, as he has tendered his resignation, but she seems to think this role would suit you better.” Karaas paused, letting Dorian digest that. He shouldn’t care that his father wasn’t one of the assassinated magisters, he told himself. Not after what that man had done. But care he did, apparently, surprised at the wave of relief that washed through him.

“We’ve all agreed that we should accept her offer, and send a delegation, but this isn’t something we’d force on you. If you don’t want to go back, we’ll send another representative.”

Dorian finally found his voice.

“I should go back, shouldn’t I? I mean, I talked about it, but I don’t think I actually expected to come through this alive. All my talk about how terribly wrong things are back home, and now look! Here’s my chance to do something about it. Especially after all we’ve found, knowing how much of our history we’ve got wrong.” He took a deep breath. “Alright, I’ll do it.”

Karaas was surprised by the suddenness of his declaration. “You don’t have to decide now. Take some time to think about it.”

“How could I say no? This is something I need to do. You’ve shaped the world, for good or ill. How could I aspire to do anything less? If it proves that Tevinter can be better, that there’s hope for my homeland? I would do anything. Let them know I accept.”

He thought Karaas would argue with him, try to dissuade him, and couldn’t decide if he was disappointed or relieved when instead he bowed and saluted, one hand over his heart, and left.

“Well, then,” he said after Karaas disappeared down the stairs. “I guess this is goodbye.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

****

_Epilogue_

**9:72 Dragon**

Dorian was amazed. Skyhold looked the same. How was that possible? Even the same banners still flew proudly from the ramparts. Well, probably not the exact same banners after all these years, but the symbol of the Inquisition hadn’t changed. Getting here was much easier than in the old days, though. The road they traveled on was paved, and wide enough that three carriages could ride abreast with room to spare. A good thing, as his days of traveling by foot or horseback were long behind him.

His escort stopped briefly at the gate, speaking to the guards, and he was greeted by name as his carriage passed through. They all looked so young. As they pulled up in front of the stables, he found his mind wandering, replacing the faces in the crowd with those he remembered.

He was jolted out of his reverie by a questioning voice. “Amatus?”

“I was woolgathering once again, wasn’t I?”

“Understandable, dearest.” Ianus squeezed his hand. “Does it feel strange, being back?”

“Strange, yes. That’s one word for it.”

He might have said more, but the door to their carriage was flung open. “Grandpapas! Come on! They’re waiting for you!” Vel’s hair was a mess again, even though Dorian had pinned him down before they’d reached the gates and combed it back into a queue. His mother’s due date coincided with their expected arrival date here at Skyhold, so they’d offered to bring him along, both to give him a sight of the big wide world and to get him out of his parents’ hair. They’d both questioned the sanity of this decision multiple times during the course of their trip.

Ianus’ thoughts were paralleling his own again. “Remind me again why it was a good idea to bring our nine-year-old grandson on a trip across the breadth of Thedas?”

“Because we’re idiots,” Dorian replied, kissing Ianus on the cheek before he began to lever himself up off the bench.

Strong arms helped him down the stairs, and as he disembarked, a familiar voice called out.

“Dorian!” Josephine’s hair was now completely white, and she was slightly stooped from age, walking with the aid of a stick, as he was. The same twinkle was still there in her eyes, though.

“Lady Montilyet, as beautiful as ever!”

Josie scoffed. “I see your tongue is still as silver as ever.”

There was a flurry of introductions, and catching up from their latest rounds of letters, as the carriage was unloaded and their trunks carted away. Yes, their oldest was still nose deep in that new set of ruins he’d discovered in the Arbor Wilds. No, they hadn’t heard yet if it was a new grandson or granddaughter. No change in this or that political situation, and no new scandals of note to relate. 

The trek up from the stables was a challenge, but they’d paved most of it, thank the Maker.

“Your quarters have been ready for days. Would you like to see them first, or would you like to visit the garden?”

Dorian hesitated. He was tired, and sore, and sorely tempted by the thought of a hot bath and a feather mattress, but a restless part of him pulled him towards the garden and what was in it, the whole reason for their trip to Skyhold.

A voice sounded from behind them. “If you’d like to show the rest of the party to their rooms, Josephine, I can accompany Ambassador Pavus to the gardens.”

He didn’t recognize the voice, but her face was familiar. Herah had joined the Chargers in the last few months before their final battle. She and Karaas had married several years after Corypheus’ fall, and he’d been surprised at first when she’d begun to write, but in the decades that followed they’d continued a lively correspondence.

He was distracted when Vel bounded towards them. “Grandpapas! I want to see them! All the dragon skulls!”

“Why don’t we go see them now?” Ianus asked. “Grandpapa Dorian will catch up to us in a bit.”

Herah offered his arm, and Dorian gladly took it as they walked.

“I’m glad you came,” she said.

“How could I not?”

“We’ll have a few days of quiet before the masses descend. I hope we can spend some of that together?”

"I'd like that. I'd like that very much."

They walked the rest of the way in silence. She helped him down the stairs to the garden, and said “I’ll be waiting outside. Take your time.” He took her hand as she turned to go, squeezing it once.

He knew that they each had their own monument in the garden. They’d been commissioned for the Inquisition’s quarter century anniversary. He’d read the descriptions then, but to see them now, in a circle ringing the garden courtyard…. He started slowly making his way around, pausing briefly before each pillar.

Most of them had dates inscribed. A crossbow leaning against a pile of books. Varric had been the first to leave them, which had surprised them all. He’d complained of a pain in his chest one night during a banquet, and his seneschal had found him the next morning.

A sword and shield with the Seeker crest was next. Cassandra had also passed peacefully in her sleep, after a long and contentious term as Divine Victoria.

The griffin monument would have a date soon, from the lines of grief that shadowed Josephine’s face, and would hers soon follow, he wondered, trailing his fingers down the burning candle skillfully rendered from marble.

A dragon’s skull, Bull’s bane.

A bow and arrows, no date here – Sera had gone off to investigate a rumor from one of her Red Jenny accomplices and had simply disappeared. Leliana had never found any trace or word of her.

A floppy hat for Cole, who had also disappeared. They thought he may finally have returned to the Fade.

A roaring lion. Lyrium withdrawal had left Cullen in poor health and he had succumbed to pneumonia one winter.

A mirror. Morrigan was another disappearance. One morning both she and her eluvian were gone from Skyhold, with no one remembering seeing her leave.

The last pillar …. He hadn’t believed it when he’d read its description in Josephine’s letter, that Leliana’s was that of a nug with a raven riding its back, but here it was. He shook his head, smiling in spite of the memories. She’d thrown herself between Karaas and an assassin during some tricky negotiations with Antiva.

His was next, a mage staff, then an Orlesian mask. Vivienne had retired to her estate, still playing the Game although the combatants came to her nowadays, and it looked like the Iron Lady was going to outlive them all.

That completed the circle, and one was missing. No, wait, there it was in the corner, a stylized wolf facing the wall.

Finally, he could put it off no longer, and he turned towards the center. There wasn’t any statue, just a pedestal, inscribed with the sigil of the inquisition, inset with lyrium. His eyes were misted with more than age as he read the inscription.

_Karaas Adaar_

_Herald of Andraste_

_Called at last to her side_

He didn’t know how long he stood there, but finally he took a deep breath and turned to go. Karaas’ pyre had been lit weeks ago, but the official funeral was yet to come. They’d arrived early on purpose, to spend time with each other now, to grieve together, and hopefully laugh as well. He kissed his fingers, pressed them to the pillar, and left. 

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I finally finished this! I started it back in January, and have been pecking away at it off and on ever since. It's gone through a lot of changes and revisions, but I think I'm satisfied with how it turned out.
> 
> Feel free to come say hi over on [tumblr](http://thewightknight.tumblr.com/).


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